


The Calm, The Storm

by swaps55



Series: Opus - The Multiverse [5]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Wordless ways to say I love you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27737527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaps55/pseuds/swaps55
Summary: Collection of 'Wordless Ways to Say I Love You' Sam Shepard/Kaidan Alenko prompts, mostly post-war, but a few during the ME3 timeline.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard
Series: Opus - The Multiverse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006281
Comments: 33
Kudos: 49





	1. Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Folding their clean laundry and putting it away.
> 
> This is cross-posted to [Pieces Form the Whole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244374/chapters/61250053), but since it's Sam and Kaidan I wanted to put it here. :)

Shepard gently closes the bedroom door, wincing a little as the hinge squeaks. Every time Kaidan gets a migraine he means to do something about that squeak, every time he forgets. He folds his arms across his chest and glares at the hinge, like it’s the source of Kaidan’s misery. Well. He can’t fix it now without creating the very disrtubance he’s trying to avoid, so he’ll just have to do it later.

Which is what he always thinks.

He works his jaw in frustration.

Usually, when Kaidan gets a migraine Shepard lays with him, spoons his back, strokes his brow, _some_ form of contact. Maybe it helps Kaidan, maybe it doesn’t. But it certainly helps Shepard. Keeping him close, keeping him _safe_ when he’s in pain, reassuring himself that Kaidan is still _there_ , still breathing, makes it easier to ride it out when there’s nothing else he can do.

But with migraines like this one, Kaidan doesn’t want anyone or anything to touch him. Best thing to do is leave him alone in a dark, silent room with a cup of water on the nightstand until he feels human enough again to emerge.

Shepard fucking hates these migraines. Not just because of how miserable they make Kaidan, but because of how miserable they make _him_. Which only makes him hate them more.

It shouldn’t be about him. It should be about Kaidan.

He paces the hallway before swearing and forcing himself into the living room where he can’t see the closed door.

It’s selfish to be so petty about not being able to touch him. After everything Kaidan has put himself through for Shepard’s sake, the least Shepard can do is be gracious about giving him what he needs when he needs it.

He’s not gracious.

Which just frustrates him even more.

All the times Kaidan has kept his head above water. All the times Kaidan has put his own needs aside to see to Shepard’s. Shepard owes him more than he could ever give back in a lifetime, and yet every time he has the chance to do it even a little, he’s fucked it up.

It had taken _two years_ to realize that Kaidan experienced panic attacks when Shepard went somewhere without saying something, or when he spent another sleepless night out on the porch swing or in the barn, leaving Kaidan to wake up alone.

Two fucking years he’d tormented the person he loved most and hadn’t _realized_ it. Because Kaidan puts Shepard first no matter what, under the stubborn assumption that Shepard has suffered enough and it’s Kaidan’s turn to pay up.

As if Kaidan hadn’t mourned for two years only to nearly lose the person he loved a second time.

Shepard thunks down on the couch in the living room, head in his hands.

If only he could _touch_ him.

With a grunt he gets to his feet, casting one more glance down the hall at the closed door. If he doesn’t find something to keep himself busy he’ll open the door to check on him and _really_ fuck it up.

But as much as going to the barn to groom Echo might calm his nerves, he can’t risk Kaidan getting up and being unable to find him. He’s made that mistake before. Besides, Kaidan might need him, and he’ll be damned if he’s not there if it happens.

He wanders the house for about twenty minutes before he passes by the laundry room and spies two baskets of Kaidan’s dirty clothes, neatly separated into lights and darks.

Shepard’s been banned from touching Kaidan’s laundry just like he’s been banned from the stove, not because he can’t _do_ it, but because one of the first things he got rid of after stepping away from the Alliance was the ingrained discipline of a neatly folded uniform.

“I’ve earned some fucking wrinkles,” he’d declared.

“You wrinkle your own clothes as much as you want,” Kaidan had replied with his usual good nature.

Kaidan’s renegade streak only stretches so far.

Shepard throws the clothes in the wash. Reads labels to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up. Shuts the door to the laundry room to keep the noise down. While the washer churns he puts the clean dishes away from last night’s dinner. He may be banned from the stove, but at least he makes up for it by taking care of the mess.

There’s mud from his boots on the floor by the back door, so he cleans it up. Knocks the dried mud off against the back steps and leaves the boots outside. There’s a popcorn bowl still on the coffee table from the movie they’d watched last night, so he takes care of it.

When the first load of laundry is done, he checks labels again, hangs what needs hanging and chucks the rest in the dryer, smiling when he spots Kaidan’s favorite shirt. Alliance blue, because there are some things you just can’t shake, with the words “I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite t-shirt on the Citadel” printed on the front. It had been a joke gift from Garrus, but Kaidan had stolen it and wears it at least once a week.

When the dryer is going he runs the second load, then digs up a can of lubricant and sets it on the floor to the right of the bedroom door so he won’t forget the squeaky hinge. He listens for a few minutes, but there are no sounds of stirring from inside. The urge to go in, to lay his palm against Kaidan’s chest and feel him breathe, to wrap him up and hold him close is enough that his hand shakes, but he forces himself to walk away and put his hands to less selfish uses.

By the time he has a pile of laundry to fold the house is fucking spotless. He’d even scrubbed the toilet in the spare bathroom.

And because Kaidan would hate it otherwise, Shepard folds each shirt with the kind of military precision he hasn’t employed since boot camp.

Eventually he hears the shower kick on. A shower is a good sign. Means the worst is over, and he’s making efforts to feel human again. Shepard quietly enters the bedroom and glances towards the bathroom, tempted to join him, but Kaidan would have come and gotten him if that’s what he wanted. So instead he puts everything away and leaves the Citadel shirt out on the bed with a pair of lounge pants. He almost withholds the underwear, but Kaidan’s probably not going to be in the mood for that level of suggestion.

When he’s done, he makes sure the drapes are pulled shut in the living room, gets a fresh glass of water, a tray of carrot sticks, celery and green peppers along with some instant rice – Kaidan’s tried and true post-migraine hangover food – and waits on the couch.

When Kaidan stumbles out of the bedroom, hair still wet and sticking out at odd angles, wearing the clothes Shepard had laid out for him, Shepard’s heart skips a beat.

_How did I ever get this lucky?_

Kaidan mumbles a greeting before curling up on the couch like a cat, head in Shepard’s lap.

“Hey, you,” Shepard says softly, running fingers through his damp hair. “How do you feel?”

“Unf.”

Shepard smiles, the remnants of his pent-up anxiety bleeding away with each rise and fall of Kaidan’s chest.

“Did you do my laundry?” Kaidan asks.

“Yeah,” Shepard says, smoothing a rogue lock of hair away from his forehead. “Folded it right and everything.”

“Mmph,” comes the reply.

“Grand gestures are a little harder to come by when I can’t take a bullet for you, so hope you don’t mind a smaller one.”

Kaidans’ eyes are closed, but he smiles. “Thanks.” He hooks an arm around Shepard’s waist and sighs. Before long his breathing deepens, rhythmic and even instead of the labored sounds he makes when he’s in pain. Shepard glances towards the bedroom, eyes catching the can of lubricant waiting on the floor.

Later. He’ll take care of it later.

They’re going to be right here for a while. And Kaidan comes first.


	2. Always Never The Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It used to be so effortless. The time they had together, truly together, had been so short, but after spending five years falling in love without noticing they hadn’t wasted any of it. Now it’s like starting all over again._
> 
> Prompt: Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

It’s been almost three years since Kaidan last knocked on the door of Shepard’s cabin.

It was a different cabin back then, of course. Smaller. Sparser. Both of them were a lot younger, too, a lot less cynical and a lot more idealistic.

At least, Kaidan was. Sometimes he thinks Shepard was born old.

Sure, three years isn’t much in the grand scheme of things. But Shepard’s lived two lifetimes in those three years, and it turns out treading water instead of living ages you a lot quicker than you’d think.

Three years doesn’t change everything, but when Shepard lets him in and they shuffle their feet, duck each other’s gazes, sit too far apart on the couch and try not to look at the bed while they munch on ration bars and read about reaper movements in awkward silence, Kaidan understands that it’s changed many things.

It used to be so effortless. The time they had together, truly together, had been so short, but after spending five years falling in love without noticing they hadn’t wasted any of it. Now it’s like starting all over again.

He’s never _not_ known how to act around Shepard before. Shepard’s never _not_ known how to act around him. Yet here they are, exchanging sidelong glances with nearly a full seat cushion between them, neither of them able to figure out how to bridge the gap.

Maybe it’s fear of the unknown. He hasn’t touched Shepard in three years. Not like _that_ , anyway. When he’d finally kissed him again, when they finally admitted they couldn’t just keep walking away, Shepard’s lips weren’t like he remembered.

But that’s because he couldn’t _remember_.

He’d started forgetting things. The texture of his lips. The warmth of his arms. What had once been so real, so important, had become more like an echo, something Kaidan could only recall if he put all his thought into it. Even then he’d started to wonder if he really remembered it, or if his brain was just filling in the gaps.

He may not remember the texture of those lips, but he’s held on to the way they’d made him _feel_. Light, free, like he’d been holding his breath for years and finally learned how to exhale. Kissing Shepard had felt like coming home. But kissing him again with those three years hanging between them hadn’t felt familiar.

What else has he forgotten? What else did they never get the chance to figure out? With the galaxy coming down around them, what will they never learn?

“You’re thinking really hard about something.”

Kaidan jumps. Shepard’s eyes are on him, expression a mix of concern, exhaustion and maybe even a little wariness.

“Yeah,” Kaidan says with a sigh, setting the datapad down. “That obvious?”

“Your poker face is still terrible when there aren’t cards in your hand.”

Kaidan huffs. “Most people don’t have as much experience with it as you did. Do. Fuck.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and exhales.

“Hey.” Shepard slides closer to him, puts an arm around his shoulders and reels him in until their foreheads touch. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaidan says. “I’m out of my element here. Not used to that with you.”

“That’s why we’re taking it slow.” The tension in Shepard’s arm bleeds into Kaidan’s shoulders. Why, why, _why_ isn’t it easy? It _should_ be. They’ve earned it. They _deserve_ a little easy.

And they don’t have time to be slow.

This isn’t like it was before Alchera. Then the reaper threat had been existential dread, background noise that made it hard to sleep but not hard to live. Earth is on _fire_. Half the galaxy is burning, and Shepard’s the only source of water they have to put it out.

Shepard knows it, too. You can see it in his eyes, feel it in his steps. Just looking at him now makes Kaidan feel heavy. Shepard’s always pulled all the energy in a room right to him, but instead of radiating it like he used to, now he’s more of a black hole. Sucking in the light without the ability to reflect it back out.

The end is coming. All they have are moments. Kaidan doesn’t want to spend them like this, yearning and regretting and fumbling for an thread to hold onto that will get him across this chasm between them. He wants _Sam_. He wants to feel Shepard’s skin under his palms, hear him laugh in the dark, glimpse the smile no one else gets to see. He wants the freefall in his stomach, to find his way home in Shepard’s arms.

He wants those three years, and he’ll never get them.

Kaidan snakes an arm around Shepard’s back and pulls him in, taking away the distance and holding him as close as he can. Shepard returns the embrace, maybe out of instinct, reflex, maybe something more. There’s no rain this time, but it echoes the first time they held each other like this, when the world felt new and the possibilities were endless.

_You’re everything to me,_ Shepard had said that day, soaking wet with the crashing waves of English Bay behind him.

Kaidan can’t take the chance that’s not still true.

“I don’t know what to do and I hate it,” he whispers against Shepard’s neck.

Shepard leans backward along the length of the couch, taking Kaidan with him until they lie tangled together, Shepard’s head on the arm rest and Kaidan’s on his shoulder. It takes a few tries to find the right way for their limbs to fall together, but eventually they manage.

“We’ll figure it out,” Shepard tells him. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Kaidan rests a hand on Shepard’s chest, but his resentment of the fabric that’s still between them, his anger over how much they’ve lost and will never get back, overpowers everything else. Shepard stiffens a little as Kaidan tugs the shirt until it untucks, then slips a hand underneath, looking for skin. When he finds it, lays his palm flat against it, he expects some kind of revelation.

Instead Shepard jumps and hisses through his teeth.

Kaidan jerks his hand away like he’s been shot, mortified until he realizes Shepard is grinning.

“Fuck,” he says, laughing. “I forgot about your necromancy hands.”

And there it is. That laugh Kaidan used to hear in the dark. The grin that belongs to _him,_ and no one else. The person on the couch with him now isn’t Shepard. There’s no Horizon, no Alchera, no Mars sitting so heavy between them. In this moment, he’s with Sam.

Shepard grabs his hand and shoves it back under his shirt, stomach rippling as he chuckles. “How does someone who puts out as much energy as you do have the coldest fucking hands in the galaxy?”

Kaidan doesn’t have an answer aside from laughter, so it’s what he gives. Shepard traps their hands together under his shirt, giving him warmth on all sides, and runs fingers through Kaidan’s hair.

“I have missed you so much,” Kaidan murmurs when the laughter fades and a comfortable quiet settles in.

“Me too,” Shepard says. “I know it’s not easy. I know it’s going to take some time. But I swear to you I’m going to fight for everything I can.” He cups a hand against Kaidan’s cheek, gently angles his face until their eyes meet.

“This time we’re going to get it right.”


	3. When You Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Holding their hands when they are shaking.
> 
> Post-war angst with cuddles.

Shepard runs a curry comb in circles over Echo’s neck while she picks at the fresh hay in the corner feeder. The extra flake more than makes up for his oh-dark-thirty intrusion into her stall; she stands quiet save for the steady munching and occasional swish of her tail. Dust motes catch in the overhead light as he presses the rubber teeth of the comb deeper into her red coat. She’d taken a dirt bath out in the field that afternoon, and now Shepard’s face is full of it.

“You’re a mess,” he informs her. She crunches a mouthful of hay in reply instead of pointing out the obvious, which is she’s not the one who’s grooming a horse in the middle of the night instead of staying tucked in bed with his arms around the love of his life.

“Your judgement is not appreciated.”

She stomps a foot to shake off a fly.

He sighs, working the comb along her back to her hindquarters. Turns out brushing a horse has been as good for his mind as sitting on one had been for his body. The rhythmic, soothing circles combined with the soft woosh through her hairs creates a kind of white noise that empties his head.

Some nights he at least tries to sleep. Even gets a few hours here and there without dreaming at all. But other nights, he does dream.

Nights like tonight, even closing his eyes makes him feel short of breath. He’d already clawed fresh marks into his neck before calling it quits and getting out of bed.

 _There are people who can help you with this,_ Kaidan has said. Countless times. Sometimes right after a night terror, sometimes when Kaidan finds him on the porch swing watching the sun come up.

 _I get by okay,_ or some variation, is always the reply. The notion of describing to someone else how well-acquainted he is with what it’s like to suffocate makes his stomach churn. Whether it’s smothering under a pile of rubble or staring out into a void of stars as he asphyxiates, Shepard knows exactly what it feels like to die in his dreams.

Because some part of his brain still remembers what it felt like to die for real.

So he doesn’t sleep. When the anxiety gets the better of him he disentangles himself from Kaidan’s arms, sometimes – like tonight – prying the cloth of his shirt out of clutched fingers, and finds something else to do. Mess around in the barn, take walks through the apple trees. Especially now, when the orchard is in full bloom. Anything to keep from disturbing Kaidan. His constant tossing and turning wears on them both, but Kaidan shot down the idea of sleeping in separate rooms before the words were even out of his mouth.

So tonight, rather than bother Kaidan, he’s bothering Echo.

He drops the comb back into a grooming box. When Echo turns her head and noses at his back pocket, he mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, kiddo. Forgot the carrots. I’ll be right back.”

He withdraws from her stall, taking the grooming box with him, and latches the door before strolling back to the house and up the back porch steps. No sounds tonight save for the crickets and a light breeze rustling the trees. Too many clouds to see the stars.

Sometimes that’s a good thing, though the stars harbor less anxiety when he can gaze at them with his feet planted on earth. After two years he’s gotten used to having windows instead of bulkheads, and the ability to walk out the door without waiting for an airlock cycle.

He keeps his footsteps quiet as he slips into the dark kitchen. When he opens the door to the fridge he blinks into the shock of light that spills out. A sharp intake of breath makes him jump.

Heart hammering, he peers into the living room towards the sound, eyes widening in surprise when he makes out Kaidan’s silhouette on the couch.

“Kaidan?” He shuts the refrigerator door and heads towards him, pausing only to switch on a lamp on the end table.

Kaidan doesn’t move. He sits frozen with a curl in his back, eyes downcast and unfocused, chest rising and falling like he can’t catch his breath. A sheen of sweat stands out on his brow. His elbows rest on his knees, fists clenched, hands shaking.

“Kaidan.” Shepard’s chest constricts as he kneels on the ground beside him and grabs a hand, surrounding it in his to still the tremor. “ _Kaidan.”_ He puts a hand to Kaidan’s brow, cups his cheek, turns his chin to meet his eyes.

“Sam,” Kaidan murmurs.

Shepard moves up onto the couch, wrapping Kaidan in his arms and pulling him to his chest. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head. “’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Kaidan’s entire body feels like a rubber band pulled so hard it’s about to snap. His heart pounds under Shepard’s hand, breath a shallow rattle in his throat.

“‘s ok. Don’t worry. Just…need a minute.”

“I’ll give you a fucking lifetime,” Shepard whispers into his hair. “I’ve got you, ok? Just breathe.”

Kaidan latches onto Shepard’s arm with a viselike grip. Shepard responds by holding him closer, rubbing his arms, shoulder, back, as if trying to keep him warm. “It’s all right,” he murmurs over and over. “I’m here. You’re ok.”

Slowly, Kaidan’s breathing evens out. His muscles relax until he’s limp in Shepard’s arms.

“Let me get you some water,” Shepard says, kissing the top of his head. But Kaidan tightens his grip when he tries to get up.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving, just going to the kitchen,” Shepard says, but doesn’t make another attempt to get up.

“I know.”

“Hey.” Shepard shifts him around until they’re face to face, but doesn’t turn loose of him. “Talk to me. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Kaidan says, voice wavering. “I just need a minute. That’s all.”

Shepard strokes Kaidan’s jaw, fighting back his own nerves to keep his voice soft. “Panic attack isn’t nothing.”

“It…happens sometimes. It stops and I’m fine. It’s ok.”

A knot forms in Shepard’s chest. “What do you mean it happens sometimes?” As far as Shepard knows, Kaidan hasn’t had a panic attack in years.

Kaidan squirms a little in his arms. “Nothing. Forget it. I just _need_ a minute.”

“Kaidan.

“It’s fine. I’m ok. I just need a minute and I’ll be fine. Everything’s fine. Please…don’t worry.”

“Why wouldn’t I worry?” Shepard says, trying and failing to mask his disbelief. _I worry about you all the time, because you have to put up with me._

“Because I can handle it.

 _“Handle_ it? Having a panic attack alone in the dark, that presumably you weren’t going to tell me about, is _handling_ it?”

“Yes,” Kaidan says through clenched teeth, shifting again, though his grip on Shepard tightens.

“You asshole,” Shepard breathes. “If you found out I’d kept something like this from you, you’d throw me out an airlock. You made me _swear_ I wouldn’t keep things from you. That I’d let you help.”

“I—”

“How often does this happen?”

“It doesn’t. Forget it. Sam, I just need a minute and—”

“You’ll be fine? You’re _shaking_. You’re not _fine_.”

“Yes, I am,” he argues. “If you would just give me a damn _minute_.”

“Do you know what triggers it?”

“Please leave it alone.”

“You do, don’t you?” Shepard says, horror growing. “You know, but you don’t want to tell me.”

Kaidan shuts his eyes. “Sam—”

“Why?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of _course_ it’s a big deal! Kaidan, I love you more than the sun. I don’t care if you don’t think it’s a big deal, it still _matters._ Why—”

“Because you _leave!_ ” The words tear out of him like they’ve ripped a hole in his chest, stunning Shepard into silence.

“You _leave_ without a word,” Kaidan sputters, tightening his grip on Shepard’s arm. “I wake up and you’re… _not there_. It’s stupid, it’s so _stupid_ because I _know_ better. You’re not gone, you’re just not _here_ , but I wake up and I can’t find you and it feels like I’m going insane. I know it helps you cope, I know you need to just…be somewhere else sometimes. But I used to wake up all the _fucking_ time after Alchera and think it was all a dream only to find out it wasn’t. I’ve gotten you back twice now. What if _that’s_ the dream?”

Kaidan’s chest heaves, eyes so full of grief and anguish and pain Shepard hardly recognizes him.

“Kaidan,” Shepard murmurs, but it comes out hoarse. “No… _god_. Kaidan.”

“It’s stupid—”

“ _No._ Damnit, _no_. It’s isn’t.”

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted and I keep losing you. What if this time it’s finally for good?”

Shepard cocoons him with his body, swallowing up every square inch he can reach. It’s been two years since the war ended. He’s been leaving Kaidan alone to wander around at night for two fucking _years._

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t… _please._ It _helps_ you,” Kaidan mumbles, fingers running across the welts on Shepard’s neck.

“Not if it hurts you.”

“Sam—”

“Kaidan.”

He can’t think about the guilt. Can’t think about how long Kaidan has been suffering in silence. He’ll feel those things later. What matters is _now._

Shepard tips his chin until they’re eye to eye, keeps his voice low and soothing even though he’s the one shaking now. “Forget about what I need. Tell me what _you_ need. I am not more important than you. We do this together. The parts that are good _and_ the parts that are messy. I signed up for all of it. Let me take care of you for once. _Please_.”

He holds Kaidan’s gaze until something breaks, the fear and dread morphing into something closer to relief.

“Please don’t leave,” Kaidan whispers.

Shepard shakes his head. “No. I won’t. I swear. Not now, not ever again. I’ve got you, ok? We’ll figure it out. I’ll make a call in the morning. Find someone who can help me figure out how to sleep. I’ll talk to anyone. I just—I’m so sorry.”

Kaidan rests his forehead against Shepard’s shoulder. Shepard rubs his back with one hand, finds Kaidan’s fingers with the other. The tremor is still there, so Shepard holds his hand until it’s gone. Eventually Shepard shifts, loops Kaidan’s arms around his neck and scoots him onto his lap.

“What’re…”

“Shh,” Shepard tells him. “Let me take care of you.”

He braces himself and lurches to his feet, a hundred different muscles and joints screaming in protest. His knee pops and he winces.

“Sam—”

“I’m being romantic, let me be fucking romantic,” Shepard says with a smile. Kaidan huffs, but doesn’t try to stop him.

They get halfway to the bedroom before he’s forced to set Kaidan down and let him walk the rest of the way. Used to be Shepard could do that without effort, but that person is long gone. He still makes a point of sweeping Kaidan back up again to put him in bed.

“You’re an idiot,” Kaidan says with an exhausted smile.

“Your idiot,” Shepard says, stripping off his shirt, shucking off his pants and climbing in beside him. Before Kaidan can get too comfy Shepard removes his shirt, too.

“This is a skin kind of night,” Shepard informs him. “Prove that I’m real.”

“Mmm. Like the sound of that.”

Kaidan is usually the one who traps Shepard against him in bed, probably, Shepard realizes with a sinking heart, to make sure he doesn’t get too far away.

Not tonight.

He pulls Kaidan’s back to his chest and holds him tight, running a hand over him until he’s a relaxed ember nestled against him.

“Sam,” Kaidan murmurs.

“Yeah.”

“’m gonna fall asleep.”

“It’s okay,” Shepard says, smoothing back his hair. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”


	4. Where You Can Get It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room

Kaidan takes a sip of his beer and makes a face. Purgatory’s selection leaves something to be desired. The music is too loud and there are too many people for his tastes, but Kaidan isn’t complaining. At this point, you take the bright spots wherever you can find them.

He never thought he and Joker would sit at the same table again, for one. After the way they’d left things after Alchera and the less than stellar greeting Kaidan had received after coming back on board, repairing their friendship had seemed like a pipe dream.

But over the last few weeks they’d run into each other in the galley in the wee hours of the morning a few too many times, sometimes with Shepard, sometimes without. Two in the morning has a way of softening you up the way 14:00 doesn’t, and now the _Normandy’s_ pilot is slouched in the chair next to him. There are already a pair of empty bottles on the table, and Joker is the one carrying the conversation. There’s an urgency in his voice when he talks about EDI, like it’s somehow necessary that Kaidan understands she’s not the mech who tried to crush his skull.

“Are you looking for my approval?” he asks, interrupting Joker’s spiel about how EDI’s expanding her attempts at humor and he wishes she’d stop taking pointers from Garrus.

Joker blinks, takes another drink of his beer. “Approval for what?”

“For being in love with the ship.”

“I never said I was in love with her,” Joker scoffs.

“Joker, you’ve _always_ been in love with the _Normandy_ ,” Kaidan replies. “I imagine you were screwed the moment EDI said hello, because now the ship can love you back.”

He toys with the label on his beer. “It’s not weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”

“Because she’s an AI,” Joker says with a roll of his eyes. “The mech makes it a little easier for my squishy human brain to corporealize her, but EDI’s not the mech. The mech is like EDI with pants. I like her without pants. Er. Also the mech tried to murder you.”

“Yeah, the mech did. EDI isn’t the mech, as you keep telling me.” Also, EDI has gone out of her way to make sure the mech crosses Kaidan’s path as little as possible. A small thing that speaks volumes in his book.

“Yeah. Ok.”

Kaidan swivels the bottle around on the table. “Means a lot that you care what I think, though.”

“Don’t get weird about it,” Joker mutters. “You’re a voice of reason, and the closest thing this crew’s had to a voice of reason since you’ve been gone is Garrus. You know. The guy who said ‘sure, why not?’ when Shepard suggested throwing a thresher maw at a reaper.”

Kaidan huffs. “I don’t know about voice of reason. But the way I figure it, love is…love. Take it when you can get it.”

Joker snorts into his beer. “Boy that’s rich coming from you. How things have changed.”

“End of the world will do that to you, I guess.”

The beat of the music changes. A few bodies abandon the dance floor to drown themselves in a drink, others abandon their drinks to take their problems out on the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye Kaidan spots Shepard weaving through the crowd to the bar. He’s been locked in a discussion with Miranda Lawson half the night. The kind of discussion that’s complicated and doesn’t need prying ears.

As Shepard waits for a pair of drinks, he catches sight of Kaidan. A soft smile spreads across his face that he ducks his head to hide. Warmth radiates through Kaidan’s chest, and his own lips curve upwards in return.

Joker follows his gaze. “He smiles a lot more now that you’re around, you know. He hardly ever smiled with Cerberus.”

A thrum of guilt runs through Kaidan, but now is not the time or place to unpack it.

“Guess you took your own advice for once,” Joker prods.

Kaidan takes an enigmatic sip of his beer. They drink in companionable silence, until Shepard gathers two glasses and heads back to his table. As he passes, they exchange furtive smiles again. Kaidan’s stomach flips.

“Good to see you happy, too,” Joker says, though his tone suggests the admission is painful.

“Thanks,” Kaidan says. “Same to you. EDI’s good people, from what I’ve seen.”

Joker raises his beer and clinks it against Kaidan’s. “To that thing you said. About taking it when you can get it.”

“Careful, Joker. Out of context that one lands pretty different.”

Joker barks a surprised laugh. “Fuck me, it’s always the quiet ones.” Kaidan returns the clink of beers with a smirk.

Shepard gives Kaidan shy glances more than a few times as he and Joker polish off the beers and order another round. Each time Kaidan gets butterflies.

Yeah. It’s good to be happy. You take love when you can get it, and Shepard’s finally here to love him back.


	5. Ablative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mending an item of clothing that was ripped.

Lesuss is far behind them by now, but the sound of that mutilated asari’s shriek still echoes in Kaidan’s ears. Every time he thinks they’ve finally hit the point where they’ve seen the worst the reapers have to throw at them, they find something new to prove him wrong.

He’d hoped the quiet hum of the cargo bay would bury that nightmare screech, but every time he pushes it out of mind he dwells on the memory of that… _thing_ spearing Shepard right through the chest and hoisting him off the ground.

Kaidan pulls open the storage drawer with Shepard’s armor, runs his fingers over the three uneven holes punched right through the ablative of his chestplate. She’d _had_ him, suspended in mid-air, writhing and kicking his feet like a fish caught on a line while Kaidan watched.

But it hadn’t ended in disaster. Between Garrus’ rifle, Liara’s shearing, shifting mass effect fields and Kaidan’s biotic heave to wrench Shepard from its grasp, the reaperized asari is just a memory and Shepard is up in the medbay, alive and breathing, while Dr. Chakwas finishes repairing the damage.

The three holes in that chestplate are all that remain of how close, how _close,_ they’d come to disaster.

He pulls the damaged armor out of the drawer and digs up a repair kit. As long as these three holes exist, Shepard’s at risk. There will always be another bullet. Another grenade. Another barrage of dark energy. Sometimes it feels like that suit is the only thing standing between Shepard and the end of everything, and they’re just one breach away from total collapse.

One breach. One Alchera.

It’s late, well past 12:00, but he won’t be able to sleep until it’s fixed.

The ablative plating is easy enough to patch, but she’d gored him all the way through. The soft armor, temperature control systems and medical exoskeleton of the underlying suit could all be compromised, and that’s a more delicate set of repairs.

Kaidan gets to work.

An hour later he’s laid the entire suit out on a weapons bench. Chestplate is fixed, diagnostic on the meexo came back green, but there’s a fault somewhere in the power assist systems. He’s bent over, carefully examining the reactive fibers of the soft weave, when the elevator door slides open and Shepard’s biotic field sends a gentle current through his nerves. Kaidan looks over his shoulder, heart fluttering just at the sight of him. Still here. Still alive. Once more, they’d prevented that breach. Barely.

“Hey, you,” Shepard says. “There you are.” He walks towards him with a grimace and clutches his sore chest. _Three holes_ , Kaidan can’t help but think. Three holes matching the ones he’d patched in the chestplate.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Kaidan admitted. “Thought I would make myself useful.”

Shepard reaches his side and rests a hand at the small of his back, taking in Kaidan’s handiwork. “You don’t need to do that, you know. I can take care of it in the morning.”

Kaidan looks down at the calibration tool in his hand. The PA fault isn’t fixed yet. How many times has the reactive armor saved Shepard’s life? How many times has a split second made the difference?

“Never know what could happen between now and then,” Kaidan says.

Shepard moves his thumb back and forth along Kaidan’s back, watching him work. They’re both thinking of Alchera, how minutes, _seconds_ can change everything when you least expect it.

“Ok,” Shepard says at last. “What’s next on the list?”

Kaidan leans his head against Shepard’s shoulder. “Haven’t checked the TCL yet.”

The hand on Kaidan’s back hooks him by the waist. The comfortable silence that settles between them chases away the dying echoes of that shriek.

“I’ll get started on the TCL, then,” Shepard says.

Kaidan reaches across the weapon’s bench for the diagnostic scanner and hands it to him.

“Kaidan,” Shepard says as they both get to work. When Kaidan looks up at him, Shepard’s mouth curves in a tired smile. “Thanks.”


	6. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

A few minutes after Shepard gets home, the coffee pot starts running. Kaidan glances towards the kitchen from his spot on the couch with mild curiosity and a pinch of disappointment. Rare for Shepard to get back and not drop in for a hello before getting caught up in something else. Also a surprise that he’s still on his feet. He’s been gone since breakfast, dinner’s not far off and his bad hip just doesn’t last that long.

He almost gets up to go into the kitchen and investigate. Instead he sulks and goes back to his book. He might be a little grumpier about the missing hello kiss than he’d like to let on.

A few minutes later Shepard finally appears and sets a mug of coffee on the side table next to Kaidan’s arm. Kaidan looks at the mug, then looks up at Shepard. Shepard crosses his arms and shifts his weight to his left foot.

“What’s this?” Kaidan asks.

“I brought you coffee.”

Kaidan peers suspiciously into the mug. “Why did you bring me coffee?”

“You like coffee.”

“Did you make the coffee?”

Shepard makes the face he makes when he’d rather make another face but is trying to be patient. “Yes. I made the coffee.”

“Which brings us back to…why did you bring me coffee?”

Shepard sighs in exasperation as he picks up the mug and forcibly hands it to him. “It’s not _me_ coffee, it’s _you_ coffee.”

Kaidan inspects it one more time. “Is there cream in this?”

“Yes.”

“You never put cream in coffee.”

“Yeah, when _I_ drink it. I made it for you.”

“Why?” Kaidan demands.

Shepard throws his hands up. “Why can’t I just make you coffee?”

“Because it’s four in the afternoon, and you never make me coffee. In fact, you take _great_ joy in pointing out all the ways I drink coffee wrong, even though everyone you have ever met has taken away your coffee pot privileges.”

“ _You_ let me make coffee.”

“Yeah, because I love you, and we have a _pact_ that you will never inflict your interpretation of coffee on me.”

Shepard’s eyes narrow. “ _How_ much do you love me.”

“What did you do.”

“Nothing!”

“What did you _do.”_

He grins. “I brought you coffee.”

“Sam—”

Shepard clears his throat, drops his chin and fidgets with his hands. “I also _might_ have come back from town with something that wasn’t on the list.”

A million different scenarios run through Kaidan’s mind. Shepard had gone out to drop off a few cartons of the Cortland apples to the distributor, with plans to stop for feed, fertilizer, and some lumber to fix the fence where Echo had popped a board off because the grass on the other side looked more appetizing. That leaves a lot of room for error.

“Please tell me you didn’t come back with another horse.”

Shepard brightens. “No. Not a horse. See? It’s not that bad.” He offers a hand to pull Kaidan up off the couch, which Kaidan takes warily. Shepard grimaces as he bears Kaidan’s weight to haul him to his feet, but when the pain passes his expression becomes a font of hope. He hands Kaidan the mug. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

The crazy thing is, the coffee is good.

“Do you mean to tell me that all this time you’ve been _perfectly capable_ of making a cup of coffee that doesn’t taste like motor oil?” he complains as Shepard leads him towards the barn, the hand not holding the mug firmly clasped in his.

“I’m keeping the mystery alive,” Shepard replies.

“You’re sure you didn’t come back with a horse,” Kaidan says skeptically as they walk past Echo’s stall to the empty one beside it. Except, it’s not empty.

A dog looks up at him from inside, floppy ears rising at the sight of Kaidan’s face.

“Not a horse,” Shepard declares.

A curved, shaggy tail wags hopefully. The dog is ash grey all over save for a splash of white on the paws and a streak down the belly that looks like a swipe of paint.

“You got a dog?” Kaidan asks, not sure yet if he’s surprised, irritated or disappointed he didn’t get to help pick it out.

“I didn’t _get_ one,” Shepard says carefully. “More like, she started following me around at the feed store and refused to take no for an answer. She chased the skycar for half a mile on three legs before I stopped and let her in.”

One of her hind legs – the right one – cocks to the side at an odd angle. When she moves toward the door, wagging her tail more insistently now, Kaidan spots a knotted scar runs that runs from her haunch down to her hock.

Shepard opens up the stall door just enough to slip inside. He crouches down and offers a hand – the equine therapy has at least helped him develop an instinct for animals – letting the dog sniff his fingers. After a moment she licks his palm.

“Good dog,” he coos, scritching an ear.

Kaidan rests his arms against the stall door, subtle smile spreading across his face. “So we have a dog now, huh?”

Shepard flashes him a guilty look. “Depends. How good is the coffee?”

Kaidan chuckles and takes a sip. “Pretty good, actually. Does she have a name? Do you know anything about her?”

“Guy at the feed store says she’s been wandering around for a month or so. They’ve been giving her scraps. No one’s come looking for her. She’s friendly, just a little shy.”

“Likes you, though.”

Shepard grins. “So do you. See? You already have something in common.”

To hell with coffee. Kaidan’s powerless against that grin and always has been. “We should find a vet. Get her checked out. And we’ll need some food. Supplies.”

Shepard takes a deep breath.

“You already got stuff, didn’t you,” Kaidan says with a sigh.

“Maybe? Good coffee, right?”

Kaidan laughs, joins him in the stall and sits down against the wall, hand extended. The dog approaches, carefully, but not fearfully, tail wagging steadily.

“Haven’t had a dog since I was a kid,” Kaidan murmurs.

Shepard moves to sit beside him, sticking his right leg out with a grunt.

“You two also have something in common it seems,” Kaidan says with a raised eyebrow.

“Her scar is a lot more badass than mine.”

The dog, apparently convinced she’s in good hands, curls up at their feet and puts her head on her paws.

“She’s quiet,” Kaidan observes.

“She’s had a long day,” Shepard replies.

“More than one, from the looks of it.” Kaidan peers down at her, ruffles her ears. “Looks like you need a break, huh? Somewhere good and warm to sleep.”

She whines, wriggles a little closer to give him easier access for petting.

Shepard runs fingers through her fur, then hooks an arm around Kaidan’s waist. “So it’s okay? We can keep her?”

“Name one time I have ever been able to resist you.”

He considers this. “So you’re saying I wasted the coffee ace I had up my sleeve.”

Kaidan takes another sip. “Oh, no. I’m putting this newfound knowledge to good use. You’re fucked, Sam. You don’t know it yet but you’re going to spoil me rotten.”

Shepard nuzzles his neck. “Don’t mind spoiling you. Even if your taste in coffee is atrocious.”

The dog gets back to her feet, nosing at them curiously. Shepard rubs her head.

“So what should we name her?” Kaidan asks as the dog flops down and rolls onto her back, legs sticking out in all directions.

Ok. Definitely friendly.

Shepard tilts his head. “Mako.”

Kaidan groans. “Fuck your tank.”

“I loved that tank. And besides, she runs like it drove.”

Kaidan laughs and rubs the dog’s belly. “Ok. Mako, then. But she’s not sleeping in our bed.”

“Deal.”

~

Two weeks later, Kaidan wakes up to the sun streaming through blinds they’d forgotten to close the night before. He squints, grumbles, and rolls over into a wall of grey fur. Mako cranes her head to look at him, eyes wary as she gauges how long she’s going to be allowed to keep her spot.

“Why are you here,” Kaidan grumbles. “This is not the kind of cuddling I had in mind.”

She licks his nose.

“Sam,” Kaidan complains.

When Shepard replies it’s not from his side of the bed but the doorway, where he stands holding Kaidan’s favorite mug.

“I made you coffee,” he says with a grin.


End file.
